Nemaro
was trapped in the middle of the ‘playroom,’ but he was alone and
unharmed.

He wanted that to mean something, but he
couldn’t stop shivering. He told himself it was the cold. Even Horu
would shiver in here; bare stone from floor to ceiling, the room sucked
the heat right out of a man.

The décor was just as
icy and intimidating as the room. An entire wall hung with hooks
and…implements.
Nemaro couldn’t understand what half of them were for, and the ones he
could figure out made his shivering worse. The only other large pieces
in the room were four oddly shaped tables, one in each corner, complete
with attached manacles and iron rings; a few minutes thought on their
purpose and his balls pulled up protectively.

The
cold, yeah. That was it. Never mind the fact that he’d be shaking just
as wildly if he were dressed in winter woolens and furs.

His
teeth started chattering audibly and Nemaro clamped them together. He
hated this place. He hated the Keep, Lord Lanosh, his guards…and he
hated this room most of all.

“How could someone
make a room like this?”

The echo of his words made
him start, looking for the source for a panicked moment before he could
prevent it. His belly felt as hollow as the room. There were a thousand
places he’d rather be, and Nemaro couldn’t help but wonder why he
wasn’t at any one of them. Invading a Lord’s Keep was nothing short of
insane.

He should have listened to Horu and stayed
out of this.

As he shivered again, chains clanked
aggressively. He looked up at his arms and glanced away. Hard enough
being trapped. Worse thinking about just how bad a position he was
actually in. But now that he was thinking about it, of course, he
couldn’t stop.

His arms were kept stretched over his
head, not so much that he couldn’t move, but they’d been aching for
quite a while now. His shoulders burned. And the feel of velvet over
his wrists was inescapable, and bizarre enough to make his skin crawl.
Velvet-covered manacles – what did that say about Lord Lanosh? That no
matter how elegant the man might be, beneath the surface was something
that Nemaro really didn’t want to know about?

He
could have guessed that already.

The chains rattled
again as he tried to adjust his arms to find some measure of relief. It
was unbelievable that he was actually chained.
What kind of sick
bastard used chains? Couldn’t they have tied Nemaro up and been done
with it? At least then he might have a chance. He was pretty good with
knots. Right now, heavy, unbreakable metal anchored his wrists to a
hook hung from the ceiling. And as for his legs…

Nemaro
was standing, at least. That was a good thing. His legs had been
spread, though, and manacled to a small metal rod embedded into the
floor. His bare feet were numb from touching the icy stone so long. The
rest of him was freezing; those bastard guards had taken his clothes
and tossed them into the corner the minute they’d dropped him in the
room.

The fabric was absolutely ruined now.

He
laughed shortly at the thought of what the women would think, trying to
keep from crying like the weak little toy these people thought he was.
As though he was going to live long enough for Meeta and Sha to kill
him over a destroyed dress? Nemaro knew what this sort of set-up was
for. He’d never been to one of the really expensive brothels,
but everyone had heard of the places and what went on in them.

And
even if he hadn’t, those fucking guards had made sure to tell him.
Stripped, chained, his legs spread –

Lord Lanosh
likes full access, pretty boy.

Nemaro shivered
violently. The Lord liked short hair and smooth skin, too. They’d cut
Nemaro’s hair just below his ears; he knew it would be curling all over
his head by now. Nemaro wouldn’t have thought it would matter – it was
only hair – but watching clumps of it falling onto the floor as the
guards commented on what it was doing to his looks, he’d felt so
completely helpless.

He hadn’t felt this out of
control since he’d been in the temple.

But that was
nothing to when they shaved his face and legs. Jon ran his fingers over
Nemaro’s skin, up his legs, smoothing a rose-scented foam over it
before they scraped the straight razor over him. Nemaro had tried every
curse word he’d ever learned, about their mothers, their wives, and
their manhoods.

Jon had simply moved slower, his
fingers lingering over Nemaro’s skin while he’d laughed. Nemaro could
still fucking feel them, moving up past his knees, creeping up the
outside of his thighs. And then they’d smiled as they went for his
groin. That was ten times worse. No, a thousand times worse. His
privates felt contaminated. The guards’ fingers had grabbed him, harsh
and bruising around his cock as they held the blade there, slicing so
carelessly he’d thought he was going to be emasculated.

When
one of those fingers had edged along the seam leading to his ass, he’d
been absolutely certain they were going to violate him along with
everything else. No, even before then. Nemaro had been
certain they were going to rape him from the moment they stripped him.

He’d
never felt so scared. Fighting for his life or hiding from the city
watch, everything had a buzz to it. A heightened sense of the world
that buffered him from the fear that usually hit him once he was safe.
Even with Mosumato, there’d been pleasure to take the edge off the
terror.

Forced to stand, exposed, for a couple of
sadistic men who could do whatever they wished with him? That was
something different. Darker. And they knew it. The guard Shan had even
smiled after he’d finished the shaving. Pointedly sliding a cloth over
the razor blade, he’d made sure to direct Nemaro’s attention to the
small puddles of water on the uneven floor, and the large metal grate
in the middle where some of it was still sluggishly draining out.

Nemaro caught the inside of his cheek in his
teeth as his mind tried, again, to think of what ‘Lanosh enjoying
himself’ might mean. His breath started to come in small pants. The
chains rattled as he pulled at his arms again, shifting to try and free
his legs, his hands… a damn pinky would do!

This
place was horrific. Even the smell: rose mixed with the copper taste of
blood. Nemaro would have vomited as he noticed it again, but
there was nothing left in his stomach. He’d already lost his breakfast
once they’d taken his clothes and Shan’s fist had slammed into his gut
to ‘calm him down.’

He didn’t think he’d ever
hated anyone the way he hated those two right now.

Stringing
him up like this. Taunting him. Telling him exactly what Lord Lanosh
liked to have them do. Trying to terrify him with their stories.

Succeeding
in that so well that they were probably gloating about it even now.

“It’s
all right.” The sound of his voice was wrong somehow, but it was better
than the thoughts going through his head. “Just fine. I’ve been in
worse situations than this plenty of times.” No, he hadn’t. This was as
bad as it had ever been.

“I can get out of this. I
just need to get free, that’s all.” He bit his lip again as he tried
not
to babble. The manacles were tightly fitted, and his arms were aching
with a tight throb that spread down his torso. He couldn’t figure out
how to get free of them. Even if he had been skilled at picking locks
with nothing but his fingernails, the velvet was covering the metal.

“That’s
fine, though. No one’s here yet and Horu has got to be coming soon.”

Really,
really soon. Anytime now, Horu, would be good.

“And
he’ll tear them apart and Meeta and Sha will be fine. Perfect.”

That
was the other thought that haunted him. What was happening with Meeta
and Sha? Were they safe? Had they escaped? Or were they
strung up like he was while men came and used them like Lanosh had
threatened?

Nemaro had to get the fuck out of here
to help them. He just had to get out. Dammit, Lanosh had noticed them
all because of him. It was his fault.

His eyes
darted around as though they could find some new way to
escape and his gaze caught on one of the oddly shaped tables with the
large curve in the middle of it. In just the right spot to push up his
ass if he were splayed over it.

His body jerked, the
chains rattled, and his shivers started up again. There was no way he
was getting free on his own. He couldn’t do it.

“Hurry
up, Horu.” They had a meeting place set up, right? Horu would be
waiting there for them. Kara had to have found him already. He’d be
coming any moment now. Any minute now, he’d come roaring in and railing
at Nemaro for being an idiot and getting into trouble. With Sha and
Meeta in tow and unharmed. Any minute now.

The door
creaked and Nemaro’s heart hit his ribs so hard it hurt.

The
heavy thing opened slowly, giving Nemaro enough time to terrify himself
into nausea. And then Lord Lanosh walked in. The guards glanced in, but
they stayed on the other side of the door as it closed. Without them to
take his eyes away, the self-satisfied smirk on Lanosh’s face dominated
his vision. The Lord looked so happy
to see Nemaro like this.

Nemaro
shivered violently yet again.

Merciful face of the
God, send Horu. I will get down on my knees and thank him if I have to,
but please!

Lanosh’s dark eyes traced down Nemaro’s
skin, letting him know in a visceral way that every, single inch that
was vulnerable and bared. Nemaro couldn’t stop himself from glancing at
the wall. Clamps, vises, quirts, knives – what was Lanosh going to do
with them?

What was he going to do with Nemaro?

The
man took one step and that was all Nemaro could stand before he started
talking. “Let me go.”

The whisper was so pitiful
Nemaro cringed. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all. Once he
started, he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t possible. But he had to sound
reasonable, not like such a witless, terrified rabbit. Reason with the
Lord who had him chained in the dungeon for the faces of the god knew
what.

How the hell was he supposed to do that?

“Y-You
don’t have to do this. I won’t run away. I’d be perfectly happy to stay
in one of the guest rooms until the Historians send someone for me and-”

“Don’t
be foolish, toy. I never do anything I don’t want to.” Lanosh stepped
forward until he was a few feet away, staring down at Nemaro’s face. He
smiled, his teeth large and white. “I’m doing this because I want to.”

Swallowing,
his throat so dry it hurt, Nemaro searched the man’s face. The only
thing he could think of when he looked at it was ‘hungry.’ Lanosh was
enjoying seeing him like this, terrified and helpless.

It
took more effort of will than Nemaro thought he had in him, but his
voice wasn’t such a pathetic warble when he spoke again. “You- You
won’t live long enough to enjoy this, you know. When I g-get out of
here-”

Elegant lips quirked. “Threatened by a
Historian’s whore. How quaint.”

“I’m not a whore,
you motherless goat herder!” Nemaro sucked in his breath and choked as
he realized what he’d said. His knees nearly gave out. Terror burned
the anger away like thread in a flame.

Nothing
changed but Lanosh’s eyes; they turned almost black. Reaching out, Lord
Lanosh curled his fingers around Nemaro’s chin. Nemaro choked again as
his head was forced up and back.

Lanosh
smiled as he looked over Nemaro’s face, tightening his grip so that
Nemaro whimpered against his will. “There now, that’s the proper
expression for a pretty, deluded little Tesa like yourself. You have
much more important matters to think about than what happens after you
leave me.” Lanosh leaned in and Nemaro wanted to spit as the bastard
kissed him so hard it mashed his already bruised lips against his
teeth. The man’s other hand reached down and cupped his now-hairless
balls, squeezing until Nemaro’s voice went high and thin underneath the
Lanosh’s mouth.

Loosening his grip, Lanosh left his
hand there, touching Nemaro intimately. The cool feel of his fingers
against the insides of Nemaro’s thighs and over his sac was horrifying.
Like a spider was crouched between his legs. Quivering, still
unable to move his head, Nemaro didn’t so much as blink.

This
couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. “The Arcane temple won’t l-like it
if you hurt me.”

Lanosh flexed his fingers and
Nemaro flinched, expecting pain. “Try again. The Temple
doesn’t care what I do to you, as long as it doesn’t scar. If you’re
lucky, they’ll come as soon as they receive my messenger.”

Lanosh
released Nemaro’s chin and rubbed softly at the shortened hair near his
temple, wrapping a small curl around his finger. The chains trembled as
Nemaro tried to pull away. “Then again, perhaps they won’t. Either way,
you’re mine for the moment, Tesa.”

He let go of
Nemaro’s hair and headed over to the wall. Nemaro’s stomach churned,
his balls ached worse than when he’d worn his first pair of leggings
and burned his skin on the lacings. And his mind churned worse than his
stomach, wondering what could be done that wouldn’t leave a scar.

Too
many really, really bad things. Where was Horu, dammit?

Closing
his eyes to shut out the sight of Lanosh caressing a small whip with
bone chips woven into it, Nemaro couldn’t think himself away. The smell
of roses and blood was too strong. The floor was too cold, the pain in
his shoulders too hot. There was nothing good here to latch onto. Not
one single thing.

He wanted to be with Horu. Nemaro
wanted to be out of here with the women, still outside the Keep walls,
looking for ways in to steal the map.

If that stupid
village slut hadn’t told them about Lanosh looking for the Eye of
Forshar, they wouldn’t even be here! Nemaro would be in the mountains
with Horu still and they’d only have the cold and the women’s teasing
to contend with; that’s how it should be. Not dealing with some
obsessed Lord who like jewels and…and fair-haired women from Nehman.

How
many people had thought Nemaro was a woman from Nehman?

Nemaro
moaned under his breath, his entire body so repulsed at the thought of
the Lord touching him that he opened his eyes. He shut them tight
again. The large rod in Lanosh’s hand could be a club. It could be. It
didn’t have to be something perverse.

Why me?

Why
couldn’t he have been born someone else? Someone too ugly to attract
deviant Lords everywhere he went? And why couldn’t this Lord have been
more obsessed with the Eye than he was with one skinny thief? They’d
never said he was sex-crazed, not like some Lords whose reputations for
debauchery were legendary. All everyone had said about Lanosh was that
he was salivating to get the Eye of Forshar.

Nemaro
stopped shivering. He opened his eyes and looked at the Lord, watching
him caress a small vise just the right size to crush a man’s balls. Why
was the bastard doing this? Nemaro wasn’t misremembering. Everyone said
Lord Lanosh was more obsessed with the Eye than with anything
else.

So why was he wasting his time
with Nemaro and the Historians? They’d give him anything he wanted once
Nemaro was given back to them, hadn’t Lanosh said that?

“You
don’t have all the information about the Eye,” Nemaro blurted. The very
second Lanosh turned around to stare at him, Nemaro wished he’d held
his tongue. But he couldn’t stop now, even if he could only manage a
thready whisper with that narrow-eyed gaze on him. “Th-That’s why
you’re trying to trade for me with the temple. One of them has
something you need to find the Eye of Forshar.”

Lanosh’s
hands clenched for the briefest moment before he managed a
condescending smile. “That’s very perceptive, Tesa. But my business is
none of yours.” He turned abruptly, reaching for something against the
wall. Nemaro couldn’t tell what it was – it was small enough
to fit in his hand - but from the look on the man’s face, it was going
to be bad.

“I studied with them for my entire
life.” Lanosh stalked over and Nemaro ran his mouth as fast as he
could. He had to stave off whatever was coming. What did Lanosh have in
his hand? “I could find it for you, whatever it is. I read most of
their-”

Face hard and set, Lanosh shook his head. “A
whore know about the Great Eye? I think not.”

The
Great Eye? Hope blossomed for
the first time since he’d stepped inside
the Lord’s carriage. “Wait! I know-” Nemaro choked as Lanosh grabbed
his face, pressing against the pressure points in his jaw until it
opened. The Lord shoved something into his mouth, cuffing him upside
the head as Nemaro tried to spit it out. There was a short, useless
struggle and then Lanosh latched it behind it head. The taste of
leather invaded Nemaro’s tongue as a round object settled there,
keeping his jaw open and wide. It made the bruises on his lips throb.

Lanosh
stepped back and smiled just as Nemaro realized he’d been
gagged. “Perfect.”

No! No, not
when he had a chance! Nemaro knew about the Great Eye! He
knew the mountain range the Eye was in, the cursed caverns where it was
supposed to be hidden, the legends about it; he’d studied the Covenant
of the Eye for years! He knew all about it!

They’d
never called the damn thing the Eye of Forshar, though!

He
lashed his head back and forth frantically, trying to talk through the
gag. The chains rattled like they were caught in a gale. This could get
him out of here, if he could only get Lanosh to listen. They could
bargain!

Listen!

Lanosh watched
him a moment, smiling again, and then sauntered back to the wall.

How
could Nemaro be so close to getting free and lose his chance? It
couldn’t be happening like this! He struggled a few more minutes and
only managed to nearly wrench one of his shoulders. Lanosh ignored him.
He seemed determined to take his time choosing whatever else he was
going to use on Nemaro.

Nemaro frantically tried to
think of a way to get his attention, but nothing he did even made the
man turn to look at him. And the more he failed, the more small
distractions crept in. Air cooled his privates and slithered over his
ass. Water trickled into the sewer grate. The taste of leather was
growing more and more noticeable.

And it tasted
good.

Shaking his head violently, Nemaro bit down on
the gag until his jaw ached and his bruised lips nearly bled. He
couldn’t let it distract him. There was no time to think about leather.
The girls needed him! He had to get Lanosh to damn well listen.

Because
if he couldn’t…

Nemaro shivered and automatically
rubbed over the gag with his tongue. Hard and slick. The leather had
been waterproofed. But that wasn’t important. He was trying to get
Lanosh to listen. To make sure to free all of them if Horu didn’t come
on time. He needed to—

Something clanked ominously
against the wall and Nemaro ran his tongue over the leather
again. Trying not to notice how Lanosh was fondling the
quirts, he licked the inside of it. The small sounds the man was
making, like he was murmuring to himself, made Nemaro’s senses spasm,
and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the leather again.

It
made everything else a little less frightening.

His
legs and arms were cramped, he was freezing cold, and his lungs were
pumping air painfully fast through his nose, but the leather was
good. If he concentrated really hard, he could smell it
underneath the rose. Old leather, well used. Tangy, with hints of
saddle oil that made a strange bitter flavor over his tongue.

Nothing
truly bad could happen when there was leather, could it?

He
heard Lanosh move and looked over to see him holding a long whip made
of what looked like soft suede, about as long as Nemaro was tall.

Yes,
it could. Yes, it definitely could. Bad things could happen, and he
didn’t know what they were, but Lanosh looked so happy that Nemaro was
ready to run and he didn’t even know what he was frightened of yet.

Slowly
twining the leather around his hands, Lanosh ambled closer until he was
directly behind Nemaro. It was almost impossible to see what he was
doing, but Nemaro twisted his head to try. His startled yell was
muffled through his gag when something smoothed over his back.

“Your
skin is perfect,” Lanosh murmured. His hand – just his hand, not the
whip – caressed down Nemaro’s back, over his spine, and ended by
cupping one cheek. “Shaved and smooth. Even your ass looks like a
woman’s.” And then the hand was gone and Nemaro cried wordlessly when
something snapped against his back.

The suddenness
of it combined with sharp pain to block any thought. Just a thin stripe
of pain, growing sharper and hotter every second.

Lanosh’s
hand was back, repeating the caress, and Nemaro whimpered. It was the
same path the pain had followed.

“Your flesh blooms
beautifully with the lash.” He said it like it was a
trait worth admiring. “Without that irritating voice of yours getting
in the way, you’d be the perfect concubine, Tesa. I could beat you for
hours and not get tired of it.”

Nemaro whimpered
under his breath. It hurt! How could it hurt this much? Bar fights
didn’t hurt like this, even a knife wound didn’t hurt like
this!

“Do you like the softer
leather?” Nemaro shuddered as he felt Lanosh’s hand on his back again,
tracing a different path down to his buttocks. He tried to pull down
his arms to protect himself, then jerked as something whipped across
his back in the same line. His moan was soft and quiet behind the gag.
“The welts it leaves are such a lovely shade of red. It doesn’t even
break the skin. If I’m careful.”

Another obscene
caress, and Nemaro tried to scream but only managed a strangled cry as
the whip hit him again. He cursed leather for the first time in his
life. The heat across Nemaro’s back was so bright that it felt more
like a brand than a beating.

His entire body was
shaking, waiting for the next touch. It started on his spine this time,
trailing down slowly until Lanosh drew a soft line between the cheeks
of his ass. Struggling against the chains, Nemaro couldn’t move away
from it.

Don’t fucking touch me!

The
hand left and Nemaro readied himself for more pain when Lanosh startled
him by walking around in front. A hand reached for his face
again.

The man drew his finger over Nemaro’s cheek
and looked at it. “Tears? Already? You truly are a soft, pampered
thing.” Lanosh smiled. And like every time he did it, something cold
coiled in Nemaro’s gut. “I won’t have to beat you nearly as long as I
thought before I can take the gag off. You’ll be down to sobs
and screams in no time. Lovely.”

Nemaro hated that
word.

“I wonder what sounds you’ll make
if I start on your cock?”

Nemaro instinctively
tried to close his legs and started to shake when he realized he
couldn’t. What the hell was the man going to do to him?
Nemaro couldn’t break free, and Lanosh wouldn’t let him talk. He
couldn’t get free! And where the hell was Horu? He was supposed to be
coming! Where was he?

Lanosh stared down at Nemaro’s
member with a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Breasts are always so
sensitive on the slatterns I bring here, but I’ve never tried this with
a man.” He looked back up at Nemaro, stared into his eyes, and smiled
again. “I believe I’m going to enjoy this more than I thought.”

Nemaro
saw his arm tense, the thin whip twisting in Lanosh’s hand, and he
started yelling through his gag desperately, trying to avoid the pain
that would come with this, to make Lanosh stop and fucking listen to
him.

Someone knocked on the door.

Lanosh’s
hand slipped, the lash whipping around Nemaro’s thigh. It still burned,
and he still screamed, but he was nearly sobbing with relief that it
had missed his cock. Whoever was knocking, he would be eternally
grateful to them. If only they’d keep knocking and take Lanosh away.

Naked
and chained up was fine, as long as Lanosh was gone.

Lanosh
looked at the door, and then very deliberately draped the whip over
Nemaro’s shoulders before he went to the door. The barely restrained
tone of his voice as he yanked it open scared Nemaro a lot more than it
had earlier in the day.

“If this isn’t vital, the
guards will be playing with your corpse on the rack.”

Nemaro
couldn’t see who he was talking to, just the barest murmur of a voice,
but Lanosh’s reaction was obvious. His shoulders stiffened and he
glanced back at Nemaro. He held up his hand as the other man tried to
speak again, waving him away.

There was a
momentary flash of livery as the man left, the door still open. Nemaro
only barely registered it. Lanosh was blocking the open doorway, his
lips tight. His hands were clenched into fists again, but more like he
was planning to use them on Nemaro.

“So, Nemaro Tesa
du Arcana Johl, what was it you said your name was?” There was a
bite
to his tone so sharp Nemaro should have been bleeding. “Horu, wasn’t
it?”

Nemaro swallowed as best he could behind the
gag. Lanosh reached up and unbuckled it quickly, yanking some of
Nemaro’s hair along with it as it caught on the buckle. He slapped it
against his hand.

“How curious that at this late
hour, we now have one of those irritating charlatans at the door, with
just such a name.”

Nemaro stiffened. Horu? He was
saved!

Bless your green, beautiful ass, Horu!

The
gag slapped against Lanosh’s hand again. Nemaro was saved…but
what was going to happen until Horu found him? “It- It’s a common name.”

“Not
in my Keep. And not one who is looking for you and your women. Who have
you brought to my door, Tesa?”

Another slap of the
gag, with a jerking snap to it. Nemaro swallowed, imagining the sharp
metal of the buckle slapping against his skin with the same strength.

“I-
I have no idea. Maybe you should have asked who he was.”

Nemaro
didn’t see the hand that punched him in the gut, but it made the whole
world spin. He dry heaved, gasping for air, as Lanosh stared down at
him.

“Impertinent little rag. You will tell me who
this charlatan is. Who is coming to my door, claiming to be one of
Nature’s gods? What manner of wizard is he?” Unable to speak, Nemaro
was still gasping for breath when his head was yanked up. “What type of
wizard is following you?”

“I- I don’t know!” He was
shaken so hard by the head that it nearly wrenched his arms from his
sockets as his body rocked from it. “I- Maybe he’s after the reward!
Th-there was one who was following me a few weeks ago. I- I don’t know
what kind of wizard he is, but I found out his name before I ran.
That’s all! It’s why I came to the pass!”

Lanosh
stopped and stared at him. Did he buy it?

Nemaro
knew what the Lord was thinking. Wizards pretending to be more powerful
gods were as numerous as pimples on a whore’s tit. They’d dye their
skin and hair, spend months just to ready a few tricks to wow the
masses, but they were mostly for show. Fake gods just plucked the
gullible coneys clean and moved on to the next mark.

Most
people never saw a real god in their entire lives, never mind two. But
if Lanosh thought that Horu was just another charlatan, then Horu would
have an advantage. If Lanosh suspected though…he could have Horu filled
with arrows in moments.

Nemaro’s mind raced for
something he could use to elaborate on the story, and Lanosh hit him
again, right under his ribs. He spoke over Nemaro’s high-pitched
whimper. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” Nemaro
wheezed out. “I swear by my mother’s name!” The woman who’d given him
to the Arcane Temple could rot in the thirteen hells.

Lanosh
reached down and grabbed Nemaro’s balls. He squeezed once, hard enough
that Nemaro screamed. “You don’t need these to pleasure the
Historians, so don’t think I won’t crush them into raisins. Tell me
another story, whore. Who is this Horu?” He squeezed a little harder.

Nemaro
sobbed, gagging, blind from so much pain, but he tried desperately to
keep from blurting it out. What if Lanosh hurt Horu? Nemaro couldn’t
let that happen. He couldn’t-

“I swear….” His
voice was so tight and high he could hardly get it out. “I just know
his name. That’s all.”

Lanosh held on for another
second and then let go with his lips twisted in disgust. He leaned in
close to whisper against Nemaro’s lips. “If it turns out you’re lying,
I’ll make your time with me something to wake you up screaming until
the day you die, Tesa.”

Nemaro could see his own
reflection, pale and trembling, in Lanosh’s eyes. He couldn’t look away
until the man turned on his own.

“Shan, Jon, prepare
him for my return. I have to deal with this.”

Nemaro
watched through eyes that watered from the pain as the two guards
stepped away from their posts in the hall came into the room. They
looked him over as they came close, bowing respectfully to Lord Lanosh
and promising horrible things with their eyes.

“What
would yer Lordship like?”

Lanosh looked him over.
“Ready him with the oils. Over the blue table.”

Nemaro
was trying to figure out what that meant when Lanosh walked out the
door. Shan closed it behind him and he was grinning fiercely when he
looked back at Nemaro.

“I’m almost tempted to be
nice to yeh, whore. Yeh won me a whole silver penny by screaming like
that. High-pitched as a gel, just like I thought.”

“How
was I supposed to know he’d be such a filly? I’ve seen bitches half his
size who cried less,” Jon complained. He walked up to Nemaro and pulled
the whip off his shoulders, tossing it to Shan before he knelt down to
work on one of the shackles.

Nemaro wanted to
threaten them with Horu again, but it was all he could do not to throw
up. Nausea clawed at his stomach with nails the size of talons. It gave
him enough time to remember the lie he’d just told Lanosh. If he said
something about Horu, would they call him back?

He
didn’t want Lanosh to come back. Ever.

But he
didn’t want these two to be anywhere near him, either. Shan was over by
the
wall, grinning as he got out a bottle of oil and poured it into an
oddly shaped... what was that? Nemaro squinted and then gasped just as
one ankle was freed.

“What are you doing? That-
You’re not going to- That’s not-”

“Aw, ain’t that
cute? The whore’s so shocked he can’t even speak.” Shan brought the
thing over, clearer now. It was a large, glass phallus, filled with
oil, with a plunger in the back of it. The pale green fluid leaked out
a small hole the end, mixing with the shallow puddles on the floor to
make unpleasant, diseased looking pools. Shan grinned as he held it up
in front of Nemaro’s face. “Hey Jon, what yeh want to bet that the
pretty knows where this is gonna go?”

“Not taking
that bet. Have to be stupid as a stone not that figure that one out.”
Jon freed Nemaro’s other ankle and Nemaro kicked out at Shan
frantically. Shan backed up and caught his heel. He tightened his grip
until Nemaro would swear he could feel the bones bending.

“You’d
better fucking let me go, or you’re going to be in so much pain….”
Nemaro’s voice was still too high. All it did was make the two bastards
laugh.

“You’re gonna be in enough pain as it is,
little bitch, when I shove this in yeh. I just have to oil you up for
the Lord. I don’t have to do it slow.” Shan leaned in, still holding
onto Nemaro’s leg, bending his knee up towards his chest. “And yeh’ve
pissed me off too much for me to do it slow. Might even fuck yeh with
this a bit, just to make sure yeh get nice and wide for the Lord. He
likes a smooth ride.”

“Fucking bastards. Take your
fucking hands off me!” This wasn’t happening! Horu was here; that
should be the end of it! He wasn’t supposed to be here but too late to
stop…this. Jon finished with his other legs and Nemaro kicked out
again. He bucked and flailed, catching Shan once in the side. For the
briefest moment his other leg was free as Shan let him go, and Nemaro
managed another swift kick, catching Jon in the knee. Still strung up
by his arms, he nearly got Shan in the groin before both guards rushed
him.

His head rung when they boxed his ears so hard
that he saw stars.

By the time his vision cleared,
his arms were unshackled, screaming in protest at the change in
position. He was being taken over to the table. The one with the curve
that would raise up his ass. Nemaro could see where it would hold his
legs spread wide, his arms up by his head, and a heavy leather collar
that would keep your head flush with the table.

It
was made for fucking.

Nemaro could barely breathe.
His entire body spasmed, struggling against the heavy grip on his arms
and legs. “No! Fucking bastards! You goat-spawned parasitic mealworms!
Let me go or Horu will make you eat your own damned liver!!”

They
didn’t even pause, although Shan grunted. “Remind me to tell Lord
Lanosh that the little whore lied. He knows that bastard. Once the
Lord’s done teaching the magicker a lesson, he’ll want to start on this
one.”

Nemaro continued yelling, but he was being
dragged forward, and he couldn’t stop them. They were built like damned
trees!

Flipping him over, they had him strapped face
down within minutes, ass vulnerable and exposed, and Nemaro’s entire
back crawled as he yanked desperately at the restraints. With his head
pressed against lower curve of the table, he couldn't even look to see
what they were doing, but he could feel them staring at him.

He
felt a coarse hand on his ass, running fingers over his skin. “Get the
fuck away from me!”

It patted him so hard it was
like a slap. “Now don’t worry, this won’t hurt any more than any other
dick up your ass. I’m sure yeh’re used to that by now, eh?”

They
both laughed. Nemaro inhaled to yell at them again, trying to kick his
legs, when there was an explosive crack. All three of them went quiet;
Nemaro heard a screech that made the hairs on his head stand up on end.
Metal squealing across bare stone.

The hand left
Nemaro’s ass. Shan growled. “What the fuck is that?”

Nemaro
twisted wildly in his restraints. He hadn’t heard the door open; had
someone come in? What was going on? Was it Horu? Had he found Nemaro
somehow?

“Horu?” No one answered him, but he heard
Shan yell and then a splash and a meaty thump against a wall. “H-Horu?
Is that you? What’s going on?”

His head couldn’t
move, and the sounds were all behind him. He couldn’t see! Jon was
yelling now, cursing as his footsteps headed back to the door. Another
scream and another heavy thump against the wall. And then silence
except for the continued gurgle of water as it slipped down the drain.

Nemaro’s
eyes rolled as he tried to see farther than his small field of vision,
pulling at his wrists and ankles, still struggling to free himself. He
didn’t understand. Horu would have spoken by now. What was going on?
The men weren’t bothering him – he would be grateful for that soon, he
knew he would – but a different kind of terror was taking hold now.
What could take down two men of that size, before they could even fight
back? And in a locked room. Where Nemaro was still completely
immobilized.

He had his answer as he caught
something glistening out of the corner of his eye. Nemaro blinked, but
the shimmer didn’t go away. It slithered along the floor like a snake,
questing, and he was shivering as it came up close to his face and
lifted a tendril off the floor to touch him on the cheek.

It
wasn’t alive. It was water. A
small, thin, wavering tentacle of water.

Nemaro’s
throat tightened; he couldn’t speak. His limbs melted and tightened at
the same time. It was almost too much to believe until the small
silvery appendage stroked over his face again.

The
men couldn’t hurt him now. He was safe now. They couldn’t rape him with
that thing. Shaking, Nemaro
closed his eyes and cursed at himself as he
felt tears well up. He wasn’t a damn weak toy, and he wasn’t going to
cry! Nemaro clenched his eyes together tightly, trying to get the tears
to stop. He was fine. Mosumato would let him go now and he would…

Water
traced a path over his bottom lip, back and forth, and Nemaro blinked.
It probed at his mouth as though it were going to enter until he pulled
his face away. No. No, what was wrong with him? It wasn’t a
good thing that Mosumato was here. Why would he think for even a moment
that he wanted that bastard here? He didn’t! Nemaro was still
on the table, ass in the air, unable to protect himself. Mosumato could
do whatever he damn well wanted with him.

A
betraying heat grew in Nemaro’s belly and invaded his groin. His cock
twitched.

No, that wasn’t happening. His cock was
not interested in this! “S-stay the hell away, Mosumato! Horu
will be here any minute now! Just… just leave!” Nemaro paused. He
didn’t feel right leaving it there. “B-but thank you for stopping them.”

The
small tendril slipped over his cheek again, more like a caress than
anything else. Mosumato didn’t say a word. Why wasn’t he saying
anything?

The fluid moved down to his neck and
spread out across it. Nemaro swallowed his shock as he felt a tugging
and realized it was undoing the buckle of the leather collar around his
neck.

Mosumato was letting him up?

“What
are you doing?” Yes, he wanted him to let him go, but he hadn’t
actually thought he’d do it! Nemaro had expected… he’d expected to feel
those large hands on his body.

He realized he was
feeling other tendrils at his wrists and ankles, probing, yanking, and
within a few minutes, the manacles loosened and Nemaro twisted free of
the cuffs. He slid off the table, his ass scraping the floor as he
landed, and scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t stop shaking.
His muscles weren’t moving right after being in the same position for
so long. He couldn’t even lift his arms; they were in agony. And his
back still stung with bright pain.

The odd euphoria
that hit when he realized he was safe had disappeared, and the pain was
growing too quickly. His cock went completely limp.

Nemaro
didn’t want to be touched right now.

“Don’t think I
don’t know what you’re doing Mosumato. I won’t let you-” Nemaro turned
clumsily to confront him and stopped dead. “Mosumato? What the hell?”

He
wasn’t there. Jon and Shan were in an unconscious pile against the far
wall, and the large grate that had been in the middle of the floor was
broken in two, shoved out of the way. Numerous small tendrils of water
were seeping up from puddles all over the floor, waving gently like a
field of glistening grass.

It was beautiful and it
gave him the creepies at the same time.

But Mosumato
was nowhere in the room. Just the water, the guards, and
Nemaro. Mosumato hadn’t
made it to Nemaro before Horu, then.
Just his water.

“Uh. Well.” What did you say to
water when you were about to run away? “I guess…thank you. I’ll find
some way to repay you for this.”

I’m talking to
water. This is stupid.

“I’ll…I’ll be going now,
then.” Would that work? He could make his way out of the dungeon and
find Horu and the women.

Nemaro took a step
towards the door and the water rose up in front of him like a sudden
growth of liquid bamboo. A few of the smaller tendrils flowed together
and waved in front of him like an admonishing finger. He
pulled back, looking around. Nemaro was surrounded. The water was
everywhere, and it was increasing. Spreading out from the man-sized
hole where the drain cover had been, it was carefully moving up into
the room in a nature-defying stream.

“Horu will be
here soon,” he repeated. At least Mosumato knew Horu would kick his
ass. He wouldn’t do anything to Nemaro if Horu was coming, would he?
And at least… at least he wasn’t Lanosh. Or the guards.

Nemaro
shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared. His back
still burned, and he was cold now from the stone, shivering in
reaction. His legs trembled. Even if it was Mosumato…it was still
better than those two bastards. Still better.

He
might have taken his own pleasure before, and he was a bastard. A
condescending, supercilious bastard. But…he didn’t seem to
want to hurt Nemaro just to cause him pain.

And he’d
given him that orgasm….

Nemaro squeaked as one of
the tendrils surprised him from behind. He would have turned but it
flowed over his back, holding him still as it spread over him like a
cloth. The sensations hit him one after another: icy cold over his
welts, warmth and pressure rippling against the abused muscles of his
shoulders and arms. Water even warmed at his feet, making them tingle
painfully as the numbness receded.

He could hardly
make sense of it. Mosumato was supposed to attack him, or fuck
him. Not…this.

Nemaro stood still, his
legs quivering like a newborn colt’s. The pain ebbed slowly until his
muscles loosened into putty. He shivered again when the water dripped
down his back and returned to the floor. He didn’t know if the few
rivulets down the crack of his ass were his imagination or not.

But
he did know he was an idiot.

Because he felt better.
Nemaro was still trapped in the Keep, and scared, and he wanted Horu so
badly he could taste the man’s scent in his mouth. But having something
here that had just obviously tried to help him was more soothing than
it should be.

Except Mosumato was still a bastard.
He must have another reason, right? Otherwise, he would be letting
Nemaro go back to Horu.

“What do you want?” he
whispered. The water just wavered in the air. He watched it, trying to
figure out what was going to happen next. Nothing changed for a long
moment, and then Nemaro saw one of the small tentacles shiver. It was
only for a few seconds, but he would swear it wasn’t as cohesive as
he’d seen it before.

Looking around, he realized
the strands were all much thinner than when Mosumato had first taken
him; they wavered in the air, and periodically one of them would fall
apart, dripping into the puddles on the floor before it rose back up.

Was
Mosumato having some trouble with the water? Nemaro bit his lip, and
then suddenly whipped out his foot and kicked one. It fell apart.

He
jerked back, unsure if Mosumato was going to kick his ass, but the
tendril simply reformed and poked him in the thigh before going back to
waving gently in the air.

Something was keeping them
weaker. Maybe Mosumato couldn’t hold him. Maybe if Nemaro rushed the
door, he could break through?

He was gathering his
courage when he heard Shan groan. Nemaro startled. His foot slipped on
the wet floor and one of his knees gave out. Falling into the
tendrils in front of him, he pushed himself back away frantically. He
couldn’t get out the door if he entangled himself in the water!

Cursing
quietly, yanking at his arm where one of the tendrils wrapped around
it, Nemaro pulled back so hard that when he broke free, he went
stumbling back a few steps.

His eyes went wide as he
stepped into open air. Arms waving wildly, Nemaro went down, scraping
over the edge of the sewer drain with a startled yell. He
caught at the edge of hole, the fetid smell of old blood strong in his
nostrils, scrabbling desperately at the stone with his fingers.

They
caught nothing, fingernails sliding uselessly against stone until he
slipped over the edge completely. Screaming, he fell for only a few
moments; he was caught partway by a soft bed of water underneath.

He
gulped frantically, panting. The lucky face of the god was with him
today. Good luck and bad, that was always the way, wasn’t it? The
open-air shaft was loathsome, stone sides covered inches thick with
dark sludge, rotting.

But Nemaro wasn’t drowning
down in the bowels of the waterways.

“Thank you.
Thank you.” He didn’t know whether he was thanking Mosumato or the
deity. He was still panting, looking at the opening a few feet above
his head through the dark tunnel of stone, when the water started to
tremble.

Nemaro started to sink into it.

“Wha-
No! Mosumato, what do you think you’re doing! Don’t
you dare!” The gelatin water underneath firmed for a moment and then
trembled again and suddenly fell a few feet while Nemaro screamed.

He
was staring up at the opening, now even farther away. A broad face
peered over the edge. Nemaro recognized the nasty one, Shan, but the
head pulled back and he could hear the man yelling at his friend.

Mosumato,
or Shan and Jon?

Nemaro bit his lip and tried to
brace himself against the narrow walls. It was dark down here, and the
only surface under him was the water. But if he could brace himself
until Horu came, then neither the guards nor Mosumato would get him.

The
water trembled again, and when it fell, Nemaro’s hands could get no
grip against the slimy walls. He fell again, so deep now that the
opening was only a small square far above his head.

And
then the water gave way completely and he plunged down, scraping
against the walls as he screamed again. Nemaro splashed into
water unnaturally, cushioned for the briefest moment before the tension
broke underneath him. His head went under and it was blacker than the
tombs he’d raided. Not the faintest blush of light, just the water
surrounding him completely with shocking cold. A strong current pulled
him away, tumbling his body, and he scrabbled against a wall as he slid
alongside it, trying to find a way out – air! – when suddenly the
pressure around his legs was gone.

Water rushed
over him, the blackness absolute, but something was creeping up his
body, pushing away the water. He was getting close to choking for lack
of air when it went around his head. Nemaro held his breath for a few
moments longer and finally gave in, inhaling desperately.

He
could breathe.

Panting, inhaling deep lungfuls of
air, Nemaro stared with blind eyes. He reached out, realizing
he was no longer crashing against the stone, and pushed. His hands hit
a barrier. Nemaro still felt as though he were bobbing in the current,
but he was encased in…something. Something cold, and flexible. Like a
bubble.

Like Mosumato’s bubble. And he was being
carried away from Horu and the women. With the bastard taking him away,
Nemaro couldn’t even tell Horu where to find Meeta and Sha!

“Let
me out, you bastard!” He hit out wildly and it punched through the
membrane. Icy liquid poured in, streaming over Nemaro’s stomach.
Blindly, Nemaro reached up for the leak and shoved his hands against it
until he could actually feel the small tear sealing up under his hands.
He was left with a small puddle of water under his ass.

Nemaro
swallowed, seeing very, very clearly what would happen to him if the
air around him suddenly filled with water. His next words were a
whisper. “Fucking bastard. Let me out.” The rush of the water drowned
out the soft sound of his voice.

The dark was
endless. His palms were raw from trying to catch himself on the edge of
the drain, and the rest of his body was starting to sting from the
scratches and scrapes he’d earned on the way down. He hurt. He was
fucking scared, he had no way of saving his friends, and he was
freezing.

And he wanted Horu.

Nemaro
covered his face with his hands, blocking out the lack of light and
trying to keep himself from shivering as his naked back rested against
the icy bottom of the bubble encasing him. What the hell was Mosumato
planning?